


Another Winter's Tale

by CaptainSlow



Series: Winter Phapsody in five parts [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) RPF
Genre: M/M, go get married and let me live my life peacefully, leave me alone you two, more fluff because why not, there's never too much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 16:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17124914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSlow/pseuds/CaptainSlow
Summary: "You idiot," Ben breathes out and shakes his head incredulously. There's a small, surprised smile stretching the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. "Oh, youareserious. Oh,bloody hell."





	Another Winter's Tale

_Am I dreaming?_

_Oooh, it's bliss._ _*©_

*

It's winter in New York and Joe couldn't name any other place where the atmosphere is more ambient and tangible than it is here. Perhaps it's only because New York is his home, thus invoking lots of memories and having some sentimental value, or maybe the feeling's induced by the reputation of the city, all the songs that have ever been dedicated to it, all the movies shot here, all the art depicting and eternalising it.

He'd say every season in New York is pretty special, but winter's always been particularly atmospheric, especially when the weather remembers to behave itself despite the annoying global warming thing and grants the dwellers a few weeks of white, crisp magic. It's the season of fluffy snowflakes swirling slowly down in the electric light of streetlamps; it's snow-covered paths of the Central park with its insolent pigeons and frozen ponds and pretty bridges; it's the season of pre-Christmas hustle and bustle filled with fairy lights and the sounds of the hackneyed Jingle Bells blasting from everywhere, which is still catchy enough to keep whistling along to it; it's the season of hot chocolate and marshmallows after a long walk and the smell of mulled wine and cinnamon rolls in the frosty air.

This year, as far as Joe is concerned, it's also the season of being head-over-heels in love, and the festive atmosphere only intensifies the feeling.

It's been a while since he last felt that way, with that trite floating on air sensation and those proverbial butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and it's exhilarating. He didn't realise he'd missed this feeling so much; didn't realise he'd so desperately needed it for such a long time until one day it hit him with the force of a freight train. It's always astounded him how ridiculously fast falling in love can happen. At one point you're just living your little life, dragging your existence from day to day absolutely certain that you've got everything you need in it, not quite able to imagine another person invading your personal space and insolently settling there to stay. There is, of course, the notion of what love is, that two people can appreciate and desire each other and coexist perfectly well, but it's still hard to comprehend the extent of it while not being in love. And then it happens, and all of a sudden, some stranger acquires such a huge meaning, and there's no imagining life without them in it anymore. A kind of magic.

It's how it happened to him, just like that, in the blink of an eye, and he was done for good. Joe never expected to feel this sort of emotion towards a man, but oh well, the man in question was hard not to fall for, after all, what with his mesmerising blue eyes, cherry-red lips, cherubic wavy locks, and, god forgive him, that ass. And then the man started smashing the hell out of that drum kit, and that was when Joe's life took its unexpected turn. For some reason, he reckoned that loving a man should somehow be different from loving a woman, but, surprisingly, on the whole, there's very little difference. Infatuation, he supposes, works according to the same mechanism no matter if it's a man or a woman one is attracted to, and why shouldn't it?

Joe's always loved New York, but now that Ben is about to visit, and the city's full of this magical winter vibe, and they have a few days belonging solely to the two of them, it seems more like the seventh heaven. Joe understands how it all works, he's aware that he's most probably seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses, that he's literally smitten with Ben, but what the hell? It doesn't change the way he feels, so he's intending to enjoy every single moment of it, every single minute spent in the company of someone he loves. With their situation as it is, he understands that nothing's certain, that there are much more complications involved than there normally would had he fallen for a woman, that it might not last – hell, your regular male-female relationships rarely last long these days, so who knows what's going to happen to them in the future – but for as long is they're together, Joe's determined to savour every single moment of time spent with Ben. In some sense, it adds something even more special to their relationship. It makes him treasure it consciously, more than he ever treasured any relationship before.

He counts days before Ben's arrival – he can't help himself – wishing he could make the waiting fly faster and the days he spends with Ben get suspended in time. This long-distance relationship thing turns out to be quite a lot harder than he initially expected. They don't even have a relationship per se, they sleep with each other so perhaps it's more of a friends with benefits kind even though both of them openly admit that they're in love. Still, seeing Ben only once in a while, once in two weeks if they're lucky, much more rarely if not, is definitely not enough. It's actually getting a lot more insufficient the further it goes, and the moments of their parting are becoming increasingly painful and hard to bear.

 

Yet when Ben arrives, something seems to be off. Joe can't quite put his finger on what exactly it is but he'd bet that there's something… He doesn't know if this something is necessarily wrong, but it's definitely odd.

The first time he notices it is on their way back to the city from the airport where he picked Ben up – it's not even a cause for concern, not really, just an observation. While he's chatting his way through the journey – as he usually does, nothing extraordinary about that, at least – Ben mostly remains silent, only replying to Joe's questions and barely saying anything at all apart from that. He occupies the passenger's seat, half-turned to Joe, with his head leaning against the heard-rest, and from time to time, Joe feels Ben's eyes on himself, an unsettlingly unwavering stare. Joe puts it down to general weariness from the long flight all the way from England, perhaps intensified by the amount of work he's been doing lately.

"Joe, pull over," Ben asks all of a sudden, and yes, he does sound pretty tired.

Joe gives him a surprised sideways glance and returns his eyes to the road. "What?"

"Could you pull over, please?" Ben repeats in that same, very quiet, voice.

"Yeah, sure, what… like, right here?"

Ben smirks mildly. "Well, just try and refrain from breaking any traffic regulations, all right?"

Joe gives him another brief look, this time a tiny bit scandalised, but he can't help smiling. "I would never, you know me."

In a couple of minutes there is a place, so Joe obediently stops the car. He's turning to Ben intending to ask him what's up, mouth already half-open to voice the question, but the next moment Ben's lips are suddenly pressing to his in a tender, slightly moist touch. Something clenches in Joe's chest, almost painfully, and he screws his eyes tightly against a fit of raw affection and kisses Ben back, just as softly. His hand comes up to cup Ben's cheek, and the latter lets out a hushed, shaky breath when they part. For good measure, Joe presses a soft peck to the tip of Ben's nose, making the latter wrinkle it – Joe absolutely loves it when Ben does so – and then let out a quiet huff – which Joe loves just as much. He supposes he simply loves virtually everything about Ben right now.

"Hi," he whispers, smiling. His lips brush against Ben's as he speaks and it provokes another kiss, just a tad more substantial this time. Then he finally moves back, giving his friend and lover a proper look. "You're all right?"

"Uh-huh," Ben nods and sighs. "Just wanted to be able to do it at last."

Joe grins. "Yeah, me too. Tired?"

"Knackered is more like it."

"Twenty more minutes and we'll be entering the city, make it twenty more and we're home."

It's a very short word, just two syllables, and Joe says it very quietly, bit for some reason it's as if, all of a sudden, it acquires some utterly new, more profound, meaning. _Home_ sounds good. It feels good to say it to Ben, too. It gives life the sort of security Joe didn't quite realise he's lacked in it.

Once again, Ben nods but doesn't say anything, just keeps on looking at him. The dim light in the car makes the pupils of his eyes more dilated than they normally are, giving them the impression of being bigger and darker. Joe realises he's staring but he simply can't help himself – Ben's way too beautiful to take his eyes off him, and he's missed him an awful lot.

"Drive on, Romeo," Ben finally chuckles. "Before we're snowed under right here."

Joe obliges with a grin. "Does it make you a Juliet then, huh?" he asks as he eases the car gently back onto the highway.

"We'll see," Ben says cryptically and Joe's grin gets wider still.

 

Once home, what they do first is make love, and only then have a late supper and a little chat about this and that just to catch up on stuff. It wasn't exactly the order Joe had in mind – for some reason he assumed they'd go out for a bite somewhere in the neighbourhood – but the first thing Ben does after setting his suitcase aside in the hall is kiss Joe smack on the mouth, thus effectively overwhelming him, and push him gently but firmly towards the bedroom. He's been here before, so he's acquainted with the landscape well enough. Any thought Joe might have had about eating out leaves his head without a trace – who cares about food when there's a very handsome, very needy and very turned on Ben Hardy unbuckling your pants while muttering something about how he's _bloody_ missed you.

It sends shockwaves through Joe's very core, makes him shiver in Ben's arms, makes him want to get closer, feel Ben's skin against his own, finally eliminate the hateful distance that's been separating them for the past month, and now it's him haphazardly pulling Ben's jacket and pullover off and clawing at the buttons of his jeans – and seriously, which genius decided that it'd be a good idea to use _buttons_ instead of a zip – with fingers which don't obey him since his hands are shaking too badly. Yet, somewhere at the very back of his mind he is still able to remark that this feels just a little odd, too, because as opposed to his previous distracted state, now Ben seems more invested into it, more desperate somehow, restless and jittery. Joe doesn't pay attention to it, not now anyway; he, truth be told, cannot quite focus on anything else but Ben, and the feeling of his skin beneath his hands, hot, almost feverish to the touch, and covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and all those muscles rolling and straining beneath it, and the bright colour of Ben's parted lips which Joe cannot get enough of kissing, and the totally debauched way Ben looks while straddling him, with his eyes closed, mouth hanging open, breath leaving it in erratic ragged gasps, his rock hard cock in Joe's hand as he rides him, utterly lost in the moment.

Joe doesn't even need to really do anything – Ben simply fucks himself doing most of the work – which means he's got the best seat in the house, and the sight is breath-taking, literally so. Only having to gently roll his hips to meet Ben's movements, Joe stares up at him, mesmerised, forgetting how to breathe because if he doesn't look positively gorgeous, there's no such thing as _gorgeous_ in the universe. Ben's chest heaves with every breath he takes, nipples dark and perky; there are veins standing prominently out on his neck ,and Joe wants to touch them, to press his lips to them to feel the beat of Ben's pulse but he cannot move, he's paralysed; the longish, fair strands of his hair are falling across his forehead, but Ben seems way too out of it to push them away. It makes him look licentious, what with the way he's licking and biting his full lips, making them shine with spittle. Joe wants to kiss them but he cannot move. Ben's hand is squeezing his, the one that's not pumping his cock, their fingers entwined, and for some reason it feels awfully endearing. Joe tries to bring their joined hands to his mouth and kiss Ben's every knuckle, but he cannot do even that; all he is capable of doing is look at Ben, speechless, breathless, almost senseless, completely under his spell and so much in love with him.

"Love you," Ben mutters, out of breath, and then chants it again and again, gasping, and this is what finishes Joe off.

When it's over, while Joe is still riding the high of the postcoital bliss but is more or less back to his senses, his feeling of weirdness of it all is further intensified by Ben's relentless demand for closeness. His arms are around Joe, not just encircling him but holding on to him, tightly, as if should he let go, a disaster would ensue. His legs are entangled with Joe's, and the latter can feel the soft moist press of Ben's genitals against his thigh. For some unfathomable reason, it is one of the most trusting things Joe's ever experienced in his entire life, another man's deflating dick against his leg, which should be ridiculous but is not. Ben's face is nuzzled into the crook of Joe's neck, and the position is anything but comfortable, but none of them makes an attempt to change it.

There's Ben's breath, scorching against the side of his throat, and lips, too, wet, soft lips regularly leaving wet soft kisses on his skin. It's not like any of those things are particularly unusual – it is what lovers do all over the world, have always done since the dawn of times, yet this time it seems subtly different. More craving. More urgent. More desperate.

Ben's hand is on Joe's back, and it's moving restlessly up and down, his fingers running over the protruding vertebrae of Joe's spine, and this, too, feels compulsive, as if Ben is afraid of letting him go. It does feel exceptionally nice – being desired always does – but there's a certain edge to it all which Joe cannot yet comprehend. The mere thought that they are lovers still amazes him. They don't meet often enough, far from what he wants considering the unexpected depths of his feeling to Ben, so perhaps this forced separation is what adds this emphasis to everything they do together, especially to lovemaking.

Later, when they finally get to the dinner table to have for supper what Joe has managed to conjure up using the contents of his fridge, Ben continues to be somewhat distracted. Joe doesn't press him even though he wants to ask once more whether Ben's all right; he blames it all on exhaustion and hopes that once Ben has got enough sleep, he'll be back to his normal self. Before he passes out, held in Ben's bear hug again, Joe wonders if it's only exhaustion or whether there's something else, something behind his unexpected greediness and weird distractedness. If it's only that, tiredness or jetlag, it should either pass or get better in the morning.

 

As it turns out, it doesn't. If anything, Ben seems even more restless in some elusive, hard to define way, and now there's an ever-present, vague sadness in his eyes.

They don't spend much time outside. Firstly, it's not Ben's first time in New York so there's no need to drag him around forcing him to complete the entire tourist essentials programme. Apart from that, their time is limited, so spending it on anything but each other seems like a luxury they cannot afford. And then there's also the fact that neither of them wants to be seen in public together lest they provoke unwanted rumours. Admittedly, they did create lots of ambiguity before, most of it on purpose, but it's not a reason to give either fans or tabloids more food for speculation. This balance he and Ben have is way too fragile to allow anything from the outside to intrude into their little world and distort it. Now, though, looking at Ben who is biting his lips and suppressing heavy sighs time and time and time again, Joe finds himself wondering whether it has, after all, been distorted.

He can't quite remember whether he's seen Ben this uneasy ever since the first night they spent together, and they've had this thing going for almost a year now. _This thing_ is what both of them call whatever it is they have, partly for the reason that it has a vague reference to Queen's _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_ – that band has insolently become an inevitable presence in their lives – and partly because they really don't know how to define it. Love confessions were made, so there's no confusion anymore as to what exactly they feel to each other, but the question of their relationship still remains unanswered. They never even call it a relationship at all, and they haven't discussed it even once over the past year. Granted, there hasn't been much to discuss, after all – they're friends, they sleep together, they're in love with each other, and this entire past year has been more about coming to terms with it all, discovering each other in a slightly different light, exploring each other's preferences rather than labelling anything. Last Christmas in London, they agreed they'd give it a try, simple as that, and back then it was the most reasonable thing to do and it was enough. The only condition they did create was that whenever either of them feels that it's not working, it's too much, it's not right, or in case one of them falls for someone else, it would be brought up and discussed, to avoid any possible undesired conflicts. 

They have been trying, and as it turns out it's not all that simple, what with them living in different parts of the world and trying to keep the entire thing under the radar. Joe never had any illusions concerning it – in fact, he's surprised they've come this far and held on for so long. He can't say for sure since nothing of that sort has been brought up, but he feels on some intrinsic level of his being, intuitively, that there's something which unnerves Ben quite a lot. Perhaps it has nothing to do with the two of them – it might be work, his family or something else entirely. Or perhaps it isn't; perhaps it's exactly about them, perhaps this thing they have has started to be a problem, after all. 

Ben's restlessness turns out to be contagious, and by the end of the second day Joe finds himself almost as unsettled, which is, all in all, ridiculous because there's really no obvious reason for it, not yet anyway. If anything, in some sense, Ben seems even more infatuated, more affectionate, more loving somehow, and weren't it for his recurring sighs, that odd sense of sometimes not being there at all and that elusive sorrow in his eyes, Joe could say he was absolutely blissful.

But he cannot say that, not quite. Not until he knows what's up.

 

Currently, they're in Joe's bed. It's not late, only around eight in the evening, but bed is where they normally spend a substantial amount of time when they finally have a chance to meet. It's all very well and good with some kinky sex in the kitchen, or the bathroom, or any other place, but the trivial old bed is by far the most comfortable of them.

The TV's on, and there's some ancient Christmas movie, which, Joe's pretty certain, neither of them is really watching. Ben's leaning against the headrest, Joe is settled in between his spread legs, with his back against Ben's torso and his head resting against Ben's shoulder. The fingers of his hand are drawing featherlight, intricate patterns over the side of Ben's bare thigh. He can feel the way Ben's chest moves with each breath and the cosy, accommodating warmth of his body. All things considered, it's so incredibly comfortable, so astoundingly secure that there's nowhere else Joe would rather be right now. He gave the way he felt towards Ben much thought back during the filming of Bohemian Rhapsody, and even more so afterwards, and the only conclusion he drew from it was that he loved the guy. He never wanted to fall in love with him, but love never asks, it just happens, period, and Joe has never regretted it happened to him.

When Ben lets out yet another wretched sigh, which he most probably isn't even aware of, Joe can't bear it any longer. There's already been one too many. 

"Ben?" he asks softly, stopping the regular motion of his hand and letting it rest on his friend's bare thigh. 

"Mhm?" Ben hums, and it sounds like one more sigh. 

 _Well, shit_.

Joe knows this _'Mhm'_ all too well. As far as he can judge from his experience with Ben, the latter resorts to it only when he's lost, confused, doesn't have anything to say or doesn't _want_ to say anything. Otherwise, when being addressed, it's a 'yeah' or 'huh' or 'aye' or anything else instead of this utterly inarticulate _'Mhm'_. Joe wants to hope he's being paranoid, making mountains out molehills, but he's got that inner nagging suspicion that something's wrong, and Ben's behaviour speaks better than his words anyway. Joe doesn't want to acknowledge it, but it's getting hard not to when this incomprehensible something is starting to stare right back at him; some undefined, obscure horror lurking beneath that feignedly light-hearted _'Mhm'_. 

"Is everything okay?" Joe asks, deciding to try and perhaps coax it out of Ben. 

What he's expecting is either another one of those vague _'mhm'_ s or some other incoherent sound meant to confirm that, yes, everything's just dandy in Ben's universe. What he doesn't expect is yet another sigh – oh, and aren't they getting heavier by the minute? – from Ben. He hears him swallow audibly and then feels him shrug.

 _Oh crap._  

Joe sits up slowly and half-turns to give his friend a glance over his shoulder. All of a sudden, his heart is pounding in his chest so hard he can feel his ribcage reverberate with every beat. 

"Ben?" he asks, frowning. "What's wrong?" 

He's nearly whispering because he can't quite muster enough courage to speak normally. He's terrified. If this is going to end like this, right out of the blue, damn, he wasn't ready. He thought he could judge this entire situation rather soberly, but it's turning out that was a bit of an exaggeration.

Ben shrugs again, looking utterly lost. "Nothing," he says softly and he sounds dismayed. Then he leans forward, letting his forehead rest against Joe's shoulder. "Or everything. Fuck, I don't know." 

To Joe it seems as if his heart has suddenly stopped in his chest, skipping a few beats. _Everything_.

 _Fuck_ , _indeed_ , he mouths soundlessly.

"Fallen in love with someone else, huh?" he asks instead, deciding to begin with the worst possible scenario. He opts for a joking tone but it doesn't quite work out. He sounds utterly terrified even to his own ears. "Some femme fatale from your film?" 

Ben huffs and shakes his head. "No," he says. 

"A guy, huh?" 

Joe knows he must sound absurd right now, but he can't help it. He's biting his lips mercilessly until they start to bleed. He doesn't know which option would be more devastating – being left for a woman or another man. Both seem equally unattractive to him. 

"Told you I'm not into men at all," Ben murmurs. "With one exception," he adds and Joe feels his arm snake around his middle. Ben's hand ends up against his side, squeezing it. 

That should be reassuring but for some reason it isn't. Joe wants to turn a blind eye to whatever worries haunt him and _pretend_ it is reassuring but he cannot. There's something in Ben's voice, the same something that's been in his absent, distracted behaviour since the moment he came. 

"Then what's it, Ben?" Joe asks and buries his fingers into the unruly fair strands on top of Ben's head. He combs through them, gently. When the latter still remains silent, Joe goes on, "Look, I don't want to be obtrusive or anything, and if you want to keep it to yourself, all right. It's just… I might be wrong, but it seems like there's been something off ever since you came, and this something seems to be relevant to us and…" Joe trails off and lets out a sigh himself. Damn it, is it turning into a sighing contest or something? "Is there a problem? With anything?" 

Ben sighs, too. "Mhm," he hums. 

" _Mhm_?" Joe echoes. "Do you think you could you be a bit more elaborate?" 

"I could but you might not like it," Ben mumbles, still refusing to lift his head up from Joe's shoulder.

Joe lets out a breath through pressed lips, and leans his head against the side of Ben's. His other hand finds Ben's fingers and covers them. It trembles minutely.

"Look, we talked about it, right?" he says, trying to make his voice sound calm and reasonable, but inside he's anything but calm. Inside, he's about to hit the panic button.

He doesn't like the direction this conversation's taking; he doesn't like Ben's reluctance to talk. People normally avoid talking when they've done something or think they've done something or think they're going to do something not particularly nice to the other person. Given the circumstances in which they are, with this affair seemingly unfurling all by itself without any certainty in the future, Joe suspects there might be only one thing which could have made Ben think so.

"That if one of us falls for someone else, or feels that it's not working, or decides it is time to call it a day, we'll talk, remember? So, please, Ben, talk to me?"

He doesn't want to talk about it at all. He wants to lie down with Ben and make love to him, and he wants this desire to be mutual.

"And anyway, even if you think that I might not like it, whatever it is, knowing what's going on is still better than not knowing," he sighs, bracing himself. "So what's up?"

"I want a relationship, Joe. A normal one."

Something inside Joe's chest sinks and ends up with a leaden weight in his stomach. Well, this is it, apparently. Was good while it lasted, wasn't it? He knew he should've been prepared that it might – most certainly would – come to this sooner or later, but hell, it's hard to be prepared to being rejected by someone you love.

"I can't live like that," Ben goes on, very quietly. "Rushing between two cities, or two cities and some other location god knows where, with these brief meetings once a month or so and all the bloody conspiracy."

Joe screws up his eyes, then sighs. Well, it has been coming to this, right from the start, hasn't it? He knew it very well, he knew it was doomed to end like this, and here they are, finally. Even if he's not exactly being rejected, it doesn't really matter. There really are way too many complications to consider to make this thing work. Personally, Joe still believes those complications could be worked out, after all, given the mutual desire to settle them, but if Ben thinks it is not working out, well, there's not much Joe himself could do. The rational part of him understands Ben and can relate – he's also sick of the bloody conspiracy and these fleeting encounters – but the one which's head-over-heels in love with him seems to be falling to pieces.

Funnily enough, though, despite how suddenly heart-broken he is feeling, he is also sympathising with Ben. It's obviously hard on him, too, and Joe wishes he was able to soothe it somehow. That's probably what love is for you, a silly blind thing.

"Well, I understand," he nods and then swallows with difficulty, sinking his teeth into his lower lip even more viciously to get rid of the painful lump in his throat. "Should have happened sooner or later, of course. Have anyone in mind, eh?" 

"What?" Ben asks, sounding confused.

"What _what_?" 

"What do you mean if I have anyone in mind?" 

"Well, a potential... I don't know, a proper wife for a proper relationship?" Joe asks, feeling utterly inadequate. "I mean, people don't normally start talking about needing a relationship while already being in a sort of… well, in a sort of relationship, unless they at least have some other prospective options?" 

"Joe, what..." Ben trails off and then his head leaves Joe's shoulder. The latter turns around to give him a glance. Ben squints at him, looking totally puzzled. "Who do you think I am talking about?" 

Joe looks back at him, frowning, suspecting that there's some catch he doesn't understand but apparently should.  

"Er... I don't know? Should I? Do I know her?" 

"You idiot," Ben breathes out and shakes his head incredulously. There's a small, surprised smile stretching the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. "Oh, you _are_ serious. Oh, _bloody hell_." 

"Huh?" Joe turns a little bit more because now he's completely lost. 

"I told you, there's no _her_ ," Ben huffs and closes his eyes, leaning back against the headrest. Then he shakes his head again and looks back at Joe. "God. I was talking about you. _Us,_ you moron."

_Us._

All of a sudden, Joe finds himself utterly stupefied, and all he can do is stare back at Ben with his mouth hanging open. It can't be the prettiest of sights but for the time being he can't help it for the life of him. After all, he's got the right to be a bit taken aback – just a couple of minutes ago he was trying to make himself reconcile with the fact that the person he loves apparently wants to put an end to whatever affair they have going, and now it turns out he was a complete fool and misinterpreted all he possibly could.

"Well, just look at you," Ben sighs, "I told you you might not be particularly fond of the idea."

"Excuse me, just give me a moment," Joe shakes his head as if to clear it. "Did I understand you correctly?"

"Well, who the hell knows," Ben huffs and rolls his eyes. "You did misunderstand me like three minutes ago, so I have no idea whether you understand what I mean now or not." He swallows and lowers his eyes to the level of Joe's shoulder. "I wasn't talking about any other woman, or man, I was talking about _us_. I'm the kind of person who loves stability, I'm not all that keen on one-night stands or occasional flings or whatnot. I can't help it, Joe, I'm more comfortable in, you know, normal, conventional relationship when people actually live together, and sleep together, and wake up together on a daily basis."

 _Holy mother of god_ , Joe thinks in disbelief. _He's actually_ apologising _for it._

Meanwhile, Ben shrugs despondently. "So I meant _us_ when I said relationship. I'm tired of this constant wanting to be with you and not being able to because you live in New York and I live in London and both of us have a bloody job to do somewhere else at the same time. I want more of you. Of us. And then there's a shitload of other things to consider, too; publicity, and telling our families, and I have no idea whatsoever how it could affect my career or yours. I have no idea how we're going to pull that off, and I still don't know whether you'd even like us to... you know, to make it."

"If _I'_ d like us to, huh?" Joe murmurs, more to himself rather than to Ben, stunned. Oh, he seems to have such a way with words tonight.

"Well, yeah, I told you I thought you might find the idea absurd. But now that we're talking about it, do you? I... ah, bugger…" he trails off. "It's all weird. Never thought I'd ever be in a situation talking about commitment with a guy in the first place, let alone that I'd be doing it dressed in nothing but my underwear with some trite Christmas film in the background, but oh well. What do you think, Joe? Just how crazy does taking this thing we have to another level and turning it into something more solid sound to you?"

For a while, all Joe is actually capable of doing is look at Ben, silently. He is stunningly handsome, and with his wavy fair hair and that astounding athletic shape, his resemblance to Michelangelo's David is eerie. There are thousands of women smitten with him all over the world, and certainly quite a number of men, too, yet he, Joe, is the one sharing the bed with him, he's the one who's got his hand on Ben's bare thigh, he's the one who fucked him into oblivion a couple of hours ago, so thoroughly that the entire macho attire of Mr Hardy was gone, leaving him reduced to incoherent moaning as he was begging for more and harder. There are so many people in the world desiring Ben and there are so many people Ben could choose – temptresses of the cinematography, the female acquaintances he's known since drama school, a whole army of women from all corners of the world worshipping him, not to mention other men he might possibly have fallen for, yet here he is, in New York, on the other side of the world, in Joe's bed, asking him if he wanted to turn this accidental affair into a proper relationship. Asking him and looking anything but confident. Nervously nibbling at his lower lip again, just like he was doing on that first night they spent together, uncertain as if Joe could really say no to him.

"Ben," he says softly and Ben gives him an agonised glance. His eyes look huge and tantalising and Joe has to make a determined effort not to get lost in them and lose the thread of what he's going to say. "I told you I love you. I have no idea how we're going to pull that off, either, but of course I want it. I miss you, all the time, and no, all these meetings aren't enough, so I know what you mean very well. It's a torture to let you go, every single time."

As if to prove that he's being sincere, Joe lets his hand squeeze on Ben's thigh. The latter gives him a long stare, swallows, then closes his eyes and heaves a sigh of obvious relief.

"Is it what's been making you so anxious?" Joe asks. "I was really starting to think there was something seriously wrong."

"I was scared to even suggest the idea to you," Ben gives him a small smile. "We haven't raised the topic ever since last Christmas. I thought you were perfectly okay with how everything was turning out. You never said anything about, you know, taking it to the next level, so how was I supposed to know about what you really thought of it..." Ben shrugs.

 **"** Could have asked me, I guess," Joe smiles softly.

"Well, that's what I'm doing now. Asking you. I was afraid you'd say I was completely out of my mind, and I'm just as scared to even start to think about how we're going to deal with it. Aren't you?"

"I am." Joe shrugs. Then he takes Ben's hand into his and runs his thumb over his knuckles, gently. "There're lots of things to be afraid for, I guess. I never thought I'd end up in one bed with a man, that I'd _want_ to end up in one bed with a man, but here we are, discussing relationship, and I don't regret anything, Ben, not a single thing we did. I was terrified when I realised I was falling for you, yet it worked out in the end. I was terrified kissing you for the first time, yet it worked out, too. I guess the odds are this will also work itself out if we give it a try, no matter how complicated it seems right now."

Ben squeezes his hand in response, gently but firmly.

"You'll never agree to leave New York, huh?" he smirks. He sounds sort of reconciled with it.

"I wouldn't really want to, but I guess now it's not only about what I want, is it? And there are lots of other things to account for if we ever come to choosing a place to live together. Come to think of it, London's got scones."

Joe looks at Ben, and there's something in his eyes and in his smile, in their combination, which makes everything inside him go all fuzzy and gooey and very warm. Ben's eyes are that greenish blue colour of the warm sea and they're radiating so much affection it's almost frightening. Joe loves his eyes, has loved them ever since he saw Ben for the first time. You could damn well drown in them, especially while being looked at the way Ben is looking at him now.

His smile radiates warmth, too. It's a delicate thing, a close-mouthed soft stretching of lips, and Joe once again marvels at their rich colour. Kissable is what comes to mind first. Joe adores him, and he sees his own adoration being reflected in Ben's eyes. They must be looking like utter idiots in love, but hey, that's what they are, just your average two idiots in love. A person should have a right to be infatuated every once in a while, after all. Looking back, Joe wonders whether it was so obvious for everyone around them back on set. He wonders whether Ben looked at him with this same uncurbed longing, he wonders whether the intensity of his own affection shone through his own eyes as well. He suspects, it did. He suspects that, even though they've told absolutely no one about their affair, quite a few people have a very clear idea of what's been going on. Come to think of it, it's not that bad. It'll require much less explaining to do.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Ben murmurs, shaking his head, then scuttles closer and nuzzles his face into the crook of Joe's neck. The feeling of his lips on his skin makes Joe shiver.

"You can't be more lost than me," he huffs. "Ten minutes ago, I was pretty certain you were going to tell me it wasn't working out so we'd better quit this entire thing."

"Ten minutes ago, I was certain you were gonna tell me to stop being a romantic idiot and grow up."

"I think we're a good match, then. Two morons, works for me just fine," Joe huffs. "By the way, I actually have a question. A very serious one."

"Oh god," Ben sighs. His breath feels scorching on Joe's skin, making him want to postpone all questioning to a later date, turn around in Ben's arms and start _doing_ something instead of talking. "Just when I thought the worst must have been over. Shoot."

"That drum kit of yours."

"Huh? What of it?" Ben asks suspiciously.

"Is it gonna live with us? Wherever it is that _us_ might end up, eh?"

Ben lifts his head off Joe's shoulder and the latter feels his pointed stare. "Oh yes, it is," he says, nodding. He says it in the tone of voice which will tolerate absolutely no contradiction. "Just get over it. No one _made_ you fall in love with the drummer."

Joe can't suppress a chuckle and shakes his head.

"We'll need a fucking house, Ben," he grins.

*

**Author's Note:**

> * Winter's Tale by Queen (of course)
> 
> I guess it's just Christmas, and there's no mistletoe in my home, and absolutely no one to kiss, so what the hell, I'm making these two kiss each other.  
> Merry Christmas, folks!
> 
> PS I guess this thing stands more or less all right all on its own, but there's a part one to all this misery XD


End file.
